


So Apparently Danny Has A Type

by squidgie



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny figures out, with the help of Grace, that he has a type when it comes to men, which is news to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Apparently Danny Has A Type

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES: You can say that this is just a bit cracky, but you'd probably only say that if you knew how crazy I was sometimes. First time fic.  
> WARNINGS: NOT BETAED!

The realization that Danny just made, neurons in his brain connecting two disparate facts that honestly shouldn't have come to a surprise to him, left him gobsmacked.  If it weren't for his daughter Grace, cuddled up on the couch with him as they watched television - though Grace's attention is now on nothing but Danny - he would have happily lived in his head for the next few minutes.  Just contemplating.  
  
"Danno?" Grace asks, voice full of concern, "are you okay?"  She scrunches her face up, something he knows she learned from him, and points out, "You kinda look like Uncle Steve does when you say something bad about surfing or coconuts."  
  
And there it is; the reason for Danny's consternation. Steve McGarrett. Tall, handsome, dark haired, lean, tanned, and muscular Steve McGarrett.  
  
It takes just milliseconds for Danny's mind to wander, delectable images of Steve running through his all-too-celibate as of late mind, but Grace's presence bring him back to the moment.  He glances at her, which causes him to push the thoughts away, and save them for a night when all he has for company is his imagination.  
  
Clearing his throat, Danny shakes his head and then leans down, gently placing a kiss into his daughter's hair.  "Yes, monkey," he admits - and questions exactly _why_ did his voice squeak? "I guess Colonel Sheppard _does_ remind me a little bit of your Uncle Steven."  And it was true; not only did the pair share a nice aesthetic quality, but also an unholy love of guns and C4.  
  
Weeks before, after another restless night in Oahu's oppressive Summer heat, Danny turned on the television for at least _something_ to do if he couldn't sleep.  He channel-surfed for a few minutes until he found a new-to-him series called Stargate Atlantis.  The timing of the channel landing also happened to be about the same time as the tall, lean, tanned, lead on the show, an Air Force pilot named John Sheppard, was bending over one of his colleagues, providing the most entertaining view (and may the gods bless the cinematographer that got _that_ shot).  And as he watched Sheppard snark with one of the other leads, he had to let out half a laugh, because it reminded him so much of the discussions - _arguments_ as Steve would call them - that he was part of nearly every day.  
  
After a mostly sleepless night, Danny managed to get a copy Stargate Atlantis' DVDs for cheap, thanks to Kamekona.  Over the next couple of weeks, he managed to watch almost the entire series. And because he was so close to the end when it came time for his weekend with Grace, and the weather had turned from sunny and hot to gale forced winds and hot, he and Grace decided to stay in and watch TV instead of venturing out.  
  
Hours later, while watching the second to the last episode and Grace happily sleeping in his apartment's modest single bedroom, there was what sounded like a knock on the door.  Of course, based on the gusts of wind, it _could_ just be a couple of coconuts, bashing about the walkway adjoining his apartment, looking for some unsuspecting haole to concuss.  He's about to get up and check when his door opens, and a thoroughly wet Steve McGarrett thrusts the door open, then skitters inside and quickly shuts the door behind him.  "Hey!" Steve calls out, hair plastered to his scalp.  
  
"Shh, shh, shh," Danny says, bobbing his head to the back of the apartment.  "Gracie's asleep," he explains while he reaches for the remote and pauses the DVD, a gritty looking _Detective_ John Sheppard on the screen standing next to his clay-red Camaro. He stands and stretches, asking, "Not that I'm complaining - nor surprised that you're out in this weather. But to what do I owe this little visit?"  
  
Steve, dripping all over Danny's entryway, just holds up a six-pack of beer.  "Couldn't swim. Electricity's out at HQ so I couldn't do any work, either.  So, I figured I'd see what you were up to."  
  
Danny hands him a towel, and Steve continues, "Sorry about just dropping by, but I figured Gracie would be back with Rachel and Stan because of all this."  He rubs the towel through his hair, then drops it on the counter as he squeaks out of his waterlogged shoes and socks.  The towel is soaked, so it would have done no good on his t-shirt or cargo shorts. "Thanks."  
  
"They left for a 'couples weekend getaway' on the big island," Danny says.  "Turns out the storm is actually heading that way, so I might get to keep Grace a couple extra days."  Looking at Steve, he says, "Well?" and impatiently snaps his fingers, then reaching for a bottle.  
  
"Man, you're bossy," Steve just says, handing over one of the beers with a smile.  He looks around, asking, "Snacks?" as he pads toward the minuscule pantry in Danny's tiny kitchen.  
  
Danny smirks as he watches a trail of water appear in Steve's wake. Taking a sip of the rich, malty amber brew, he finally replies, "Nothing that's vegan or got tofu or anything _remotely_ healthy."  
  
He watches as Steve grabs perhaps the healthiest snacks - some Asian rice crackers that someone had left probably after Christmas last year - and says, "Bring the Cheetos," and then takes another swig of beer before heading back to the couch.  
  
Steve just rolls his eyes and turns to the pantry, but the scene catches Danny off guard just a bit.  Though his partner had somewhat dried off, the shirt was still sticking to him, the muscles in Steve's back clearly showing through the clinging fabric. And damn if Danny's pants don't get just a bit tighter.  He turns to face the television and grabs the remote just as Steve comes to the couch, Danny saying, "Whoa!  Whoa! Whoa!" as Steve tries to sit down.  
  
" _What_?" Steve asks, handing over the fluorescent-orange bag of snacks.  
  
As one of Danny's eyebrows heads towards the sky, he says, "You're soaked to the core, babe."  
  
"Like this couch is in pristine condition," Steve says, ignoring Danny and sitting down anyway.  
  
"That's not the point, _doofus_ ," Danny starts, but Steve cuts him off.  
  
"Doofus?" Steve asks.  "What are you, like 12?"  
  
"Yes, _doofus_ ," Danny counters.  "And you're getting _my bed_ soaking wet!"  
  
Steve is up like a shot, but it's not like it will do any good; the couch is now soaked where Steve had just sat.  He starts to peel out of his shirt, and Danny wishes that he had some sort of pillow to cover his crotch.  But instead, he just tries to glance back at the television as Steve sits back down next to him, now clad in just his cargo shorts.  If Danny tries hard enough, he can pretend he doesn't see the exquisite lines that cross his partner's neck, and _definitely_ tries to ignore the throbbing pulse point that demands to be licked. Or at least _deserves_ to be.  
  
"What is this?" Steve asks of the television. He gestures with his beer bottle and takes a sip, then puts his free arm around Danny.  And damn if it doesn't remind Danny of last Halloween, when Danny stole a snuggle with Steve as Grace and Catherine shared popcorn and secrets on the other side of the sofa.  That night provided Danny with a fodder of masterbational fantasies for weeks.  
  
Hoping his voice doesn't crack as he stiffly ignores all of Steve's exposed skin spread out next to him, Danny says, "Stargate Atlantis."  
  
"Oh, I've heard of that," Steve says.  "Can you start it over?"  
  
"Can I start it over, he asks," Danny indignantly replies. "This is the next to the last episode, Steven.  _Of the entire five-season series_."  
  
"Yeah, but I've never seen it," Steve counters. Turning to Danny, while carefully gesturing with his beer, he asks, "How the hell can I know what's going on if we don't start it from the beginning?"  
  
Danny sighs, clearly put upon.  But in truth, he wasn't looking to the series ending.  He dares a glance at Steve, not letting his eyes glance further south than Steve's neck.   
  
At least not more than half a dozen times.  
  
Getting up, Danny says, "Yeah, okay," and heads for the DVD player.  He swaps out the last disk for the first, then goes back and sits down next to Steve. As he hits the play button on the remote control, he leans back into Steve, and feels Steve give off the hint of a shiver.  "You cold, babe?" he asks.  
  
Steve holds an expression that's somewhere between uncomfortable and aneurism face.  "Little bit," Steve says, so Danny reaches back and grabs the light blanket that he keeps on the back of the sofa, handing it to his partner.  
  
Gladly accepting the blanket with a wink, Steve shakes it out. But instead of leaning up and putting it around his arms like a shawl, Steve puts part of the blanket around him, and the other half around Danny.  That one simple gesture made the moment even more intimate than the last time they sat like this.  And now Danny has even more masturbaterial for his memories.  
  
He would expect Steve to feel a little stiff, but if anything he was even more relaxed than normal.  They make it through the first few episodes, the beer running out before they run out of energy, so Danny gets another six-pack from his refrigerator. He sits back down, Steve holding out the blanket and cocooning with Danny once again as Steve says, "You know, I think Teyla is pretty kick-ass, but my favorite has got to be Sheppard."  
  
Danny sighs.  He _figured_ that Steve would like Sheppard the best; they were like two maniacal peas in an over-armed pod.  And there goes Danny's erection again, making him tug at his pants discreetly, thankful of the blanket covering his lap.  "Teyla remind you of anyone?" Danny asks, trying to change the subject.  
  
Looking back at the television for a second, Danny watches Steve until the moment of realization hits.  "Oh shit," he says, eyes crinkling up in a smile. " _Kono_."  
  
"Got it in one," Danny counters.  But before he can say anything else, Steve says, "And that Ford kid is _totally_ Chin. So I guess that makes me that Major Sheppard dude."  Glancing back at the screen, Steve says, "But I'm sorry, Danno - you're not really the McKay type."  
  
Winking at Steve, Danny says, "I'll take that as a compliment."  
  
"Not that you're not smart or anything.  But you don't bitch as much as he does." Steve manages a quick grin at Danny, then playfully adds, "Well," which earns him a quite justified (in Danny's mind) flip of the bird.  
  
They turn back to the television as the next episode starts, Steve finishing off Danny's bag of Cheetos, torturing Danny with the sound of him licking his fingers to dislodge the snack dust.  When the action begins, Steve asks, "What the hell is that on his neck?"  
  
"It's a...  A bug like thing," Danny responds.  
  
Steve shudders, shaking Danny along with him.  "That gives me the creeps."  He reaches for his beer, draining the rest of it and adding, "I don't like things touching my neck."  
  
Before he can censor himself, Danny says, "That's a shame." And it really is, because Steve has such wonderful lines.  It was like he was gifted with all the good - and pretty - DNA.  
  
"What?" Steve asks, but Danny ignores him. Pulling at Danny's shoulder as a way to prod him, he again asks, "What was that supposed to mean?"  
  
Danny's red in the face, but he won't show Steve that - at least not willingly.  So Steve leans forward, the blanket tumbling to their laps, and looks Danny in the face. And damn him for having the most adorable smile, as well as using his half-lidded eyes look on Danny. "Something about my neck you want to tell me?"  
  
Blowing out a sigh, Danny finally says, "Not to stroke your ego any more than absolutely necessary, but you _are_ aware just how pretty you are.  Right? With the muscles, and the tan, the jawline, and that neck and everything?"  
  
Beaming Danny a smile that says he's _never_ going to hear the end of it, Steve asks, "You think I'm good looking?"  
  
Pointing a finger at him, Danny counters, "Like I said, I will absolutely not stroke your ego.  But you would have to be blind to not notice the nice little features on a guy like you."  
  
Steve sits there, absently running a hand up his chest, and Danny is mesmerized as one of Steve's fingers lightly caresses over the nipple that holds his lizard tattoo, the skin reacting quickly, perking both nipples up into small pebbles.  There's an electrical charge to the air that Danny can almost absolutely feel, and he swallows, Steve' s eyes watching as Danny's Adam's apple bobs down, then back up.  
  
Danny makes the first move; he figures if he's come this far, he might as well go all the way.  He turns, launching himself at Steve, pushing him into the back of the sofa. Steve lets out a moan, whether due to Danny's sudden weight, or Danny's insistent tongue, seeking entrance to his mouth. As Danny grinds his cock against his partner's muscular torso, he lets out his own moan as he plunders Steve's mouth, which Steve happily swallows.  
  
They make out like a couple of teenagers until they hear the flush of the toilet - and suddenly they are on opposite sides of the couch. And dammit, Danny can't believe that Gracie was sleeping quietly in the bedroom.  There's the sound of the faucet running, and then the sound of tiny footfalls before Grace appears at the corner of the kitchen, sleepily gazing into the room.  "Uncle Steve?" she asks, then wakes up enough to walk towards the couch.  
  
Danny first smiles when Steve blatantly pulls the blanket over his lap, and again when his voice cracks.  "Hi, Gracie," he manages.  His head cocks to the side slightly, and he clears his throat, then repeats, "I mean, hi, Gracie."  And then he makes eyes at Danny, who is tickled that Steve is absolutely blustered.  
  
"When did you get here?" Grace asks, rubbing her eyes.  
  
"Couple of hours ago, monkey," Danny says. Then turning his full gaze to Steve, he adds, "He's got _impeccable_ timing, doesn't he?"  Danny's double-meaning hangs playfully in the air, and he gives a still flustered Steve his best wink, as Grace climbs onto the couch between them.  
  
"You mean like for a sleepover?" Grace asks.  
  
There's a gust of wind that howls through the building and rattles the windows.  "You know what, Grace?" Steve asks, then looks up at Danny. "I think a sleepover is the best idea _ever_."


End file.
